


It's My Party or The Big Bashir Blowout of '96

by Cyrelia_J



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Crack, Humor, Multi, No one has their shit together, On-Again/Off-Again Relationship, Post-Canon, Promiscuity, Sassy, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 09:18:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15815976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyrelia_J/pseuds/Cyrelia_J
Summary: (2396, that is)Celebrating his big milestone 5 years late, Julian Bashir returns to Deep Space Nine for the party. Quark is taking bets on who he’s coming with, who he’s going with, and everything in between. Well Julian may have something to say about that because at 55 he is totally mature and totally over these high school shenanigans!Even his eight grown children aren't buying that one.





	It's My Party or The Big Bashir Blowout of '96

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DayOldHakarl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DayOldHakarl/gifts).



> Post Canon that’s mostly true to canon with the exception of Jadzia being alive (Ezri still exists and is here just not as Dax), Sarina being alive, and a little minor fudging with timelines and Bashir children that would have had to have been born during the show.
> 
> This was sort of inspired by a goofy gif set I'd fudged along with the recollection numerous conversations I'd overheard as a kid. My dad would always gossip on the phone with his friends and it amazed me that these people in their 40s and 50s were carrying on like teenagers so yeah. In this cracked out story no on has their shit together romantically and it's all ridiculousness and drama

           The betting lines at Quark’s open a week in advance. The bets begin pouring in immediately, the odds and payouts shifting as the guests begin to arrive on the station. Some lose early when Ezri Tigan shows up Tuesday accompanied only by her oldest son Jolinar informing everyone with a shrug it’s just her and the kid. She places her own bet with a few strips of latinum, staring curiously up at the screen. Jolinar, the half trill, half human young man leaves her to play catch up with morn while he takes a seat around the large round table of other youths: half Bajoran Sela, half Cardassians Iliana and Mezan, half Andorian Talesar ch’Bashir (nicknamed affectionately “Tzar”), and humans James, Jonathan, and Juliet. The Bashir offspring place their own bets, Ferengi waiters listening carefully for any inside gossip which may skew the odds.

 

           Jolinar says that his father wrote him last from Cardassia Prime. Iliana swears that her fathers had another one of their infamous rows (which Mezan confirms with a long sip of tea adding that their yad’ is also on the outs with Parmak). Tzar adds that their father was headed for a conference on Adigeon Prime solo, and the humans had been spending the summer out of contact visiting relatives in England. James adds that his father’s extended family (sans Richard and Amsha they all acknowledge with knowing nods) is planning on making the trip out, his uncle Joseph saying that five years late for his milestone is better than not at all. The odds start shifting once Sela says she just got word that her mother isn’t coming either.

Joseph Bashir arrives on a Thursday to much fanfare with Julian’s Aunt Emmeline, and cousins Paddy, Alastair, and Matilda, with Elizabeth and Arthur sending their regards and a regifted case of old Romulan ale. _They_ claim that their Julian was talking about that dancer (“you remember mum, the one with the _feet_ ” Paddy added to soft knowing laughter). The betting lines go wild again.

 

Privateers (and “Not crazy see, we have certificates mmhm!”) Jonathan “Jack” Merriweather, Lauren Anderson, Sarina Douglas (“I’m sorry Julian, but I think hunting pirates with Jack is less stressful than our relationship”), and Patrick (just Patrick but he’ll also accept Admiral Patrick) arrive on Friday. No one’s seen the group but know them by reputation in the Alpha Quadrant having spent the last decade cleaning up the last of the Dominion Mess. (And trying to decide if Mercury can be sawed in half.) Jack declares that every calculation he has says that Bashir is showing up stag so he can hook up with another dumb fool blinded by his reputation and smile (though Jack swears he doesn’t understand why anyone would want to sleep with a man who has “bowling ball nostrils”).

 

Jack wins a tidy sum and immediately blows it on old books and vinyl records.

 

           The night of the belated (“5 years is still belated” Jack argues pedantically) milestone celebration, Quark’s is filled, fanfare when the Emissary enters and even more cheers when Julian arrives in his civvies.

Everyone takes one look and Quark reopens the betting lines for who Julian’s sleeping with while he’s there.

Julian himself puts down several slips of latinum on “No one because I’m too old for those sorts of youthful indiscretions” and no table laughs louder than the table where his children are seated. He huffs and declares that he’ll show them because fifty five is far too old to keep carrying on like a _teenager_ (no one misses the _look_ that he shoots one Elim Garak at that comment during his little speech. Garak for his part responds with a toast and a raise of his glass) and that they, his friends and family should have more faith in him that that. Elizabeth Lense explains to Palis Delon that “Liam only undoes four shirt buttons like that when he’s looking for a cheap hookup. Palis says she thought it was three. “Three is when he has the silver necklace to contrast his skin.” “The one with the little bird and the shield?” “That’s the one.”

 

“I can hear you, you know!” comes from Julian.

“Because he’s _genetically enhanced._ We know, dear doctor,” Garak adds waspishly with a drink of kanar.

“Are we really doing this now, Garak?”

“Yad’…” Mezan groans from the next table.

“-because if we’re bringing this all up again now I’m sure that Kelas-”

“Oh no, you’re not dragging me into your nonsense again!” from Kelas Parmak sitting oddly near Jack.

“Oh _now_ it’s nonsense, Kelas?”

“It was always nonsense, Elim and if you think for one moment that I would ever accept such an offensive proposal then being Castellan has aged more than just your hair.”

“My feelings were in earnest, I assure you.”

“Wait, you _proposed_ to Parmak?! What happened to “My life is a void of light and joy without you, Julian?!”

“It must have been the implant acting up,” Garak murmurs.

"Oh like it was the implant when you begged me to come home because you couldn't live without me?!"

"I recall no such incident."

 

Parmak gets in one last dig, grabbing his walking stick and pointing it in Garak's direction.

“Yes a proposal from our beloved Castellan, because I’d love nothing more than to spend another twenty years sleeping in the spare bedroom while you and the “ _youthful_ doctor” continue this on again off again foolishness. While you gratify yourself every night with his name on your lips because you think I can't hear you when I'm getting up to go to the bathroom. Ah, but that’s none of my business,” Parmak adds with a huff and long sip of red leaf tea.

“Perhaps it's your _age_ , dear Kelas but I'm sure you misheard me!”

“Bury me, Elim!”

Latinum changes hands again as Julian sits back down at his table, head in his hands as an attractive red headed dabo girl pours him a glass of good scotch. Miles claps him on the back already three sheets to the wind telling his mate loudly he sure knows how to throw a good party. Julian catches Paddy unwrapping and rewrapping presents before nicking a watch. He doesn’t say anything determined to be mature and _above_ all this because it might be five years after fifty but Julian Bashir is a changed man, a wise man, a _mature_ man with a salt and pepper beard but still the same dashing figure he always used to cut and they can all sod off the lot of them and who are they to judge if he likes adventure and having a good time and a few more drinks of scotch later he decides that Julian Bashir is changing _tomorrow_ and he didn’t wear this lovely ensemble to have Miles singing drunkenly in his ear with Keiko and Ezri play darts.

 

“I still don’t know why you married him,” Jack says to Sarina, watching Bashir take a seat. “He’s like ego wrapped together with with twigs and pipe cleaners.”

“He’s a very nice man, Jack. You’d know that if you ever bothered getting to know him.”

“Right right, that’s why you sent him his walking papers hm hm?”

“Nice, not perfect,” she amends.

“Nine inches of ‘nice’” Lauren adds to which Jack stands up pointing a finger jumping up and down.

“Aha! I knew it! Though why you’d want to sleep with that is beyond me-”

“Prob’ly- his mouth” Patrick chimes in sleepily, a long pause of silence. Jack demands to know which of them let Patrick have the Bad gummies while Patrick dozes off on the table. Sarina blushes and looks away and assures Jack that Bashir has plenty of other fine qualities which Jack so isn’t buying as he goes to the long buffet table to get more of the Safe punch.

 

The punch bowl is off in a darkened corner - likely to make it easier to liven up but Jack doesn’t detect any alcohol in it yet - and of course, _of course_ Bashir is there in that stupid half buttoned shirt looking just as smug and dumb as he always had and his nostrils are just as big, his eyes just as beady, his forehead still its own continent. No, no way anyone would want to sleep with that thing. Jack looks at Bashir’s mouth as he gets more punch, maybe a little close but he’s trying to see detail and if he forgets to say “Hello” well, he has more important considerations!

“Oh… hullo Jack,” Bashir says dumbly while Jack determines that no, not the mouth either and says as much while Bashir looks like he’s not Getting it and this is why Jack completely Understands how easily he passes for normal.

 

“Nope, still not seeing it hm.” Julian hears as he looks at Jack curiously, though as close as he’s standing it’s hard not to look. Jack looks back - and if Julian is being honest and he’s just tipsy enough to be - damn good, auburn hair shoulder length, same goatee a little grayer, same eyes, same mouth, same body only wrapped in a white shirt, brown vest, rolled up sleeves and really looking every bit the pirate privateer. And then Jack opens his mouth and that sort of ruins it while he expresses his disbelief that anyone would want to sleep with Julian and right, same old Jack.

“Jealous?” Julian snaps knowing he ought to be more gracious but if Jack is cleared mentally then he doesn’t need to try and be polite and who invited Jack? Come to think of it, who even organized the party?

 

“Jealous? Of what?” More stupid Bashir questions, what’s he supposed to be jealous of? People bothering him? Some endless parade of intercourse? Well that’s stupid, Jack has Important Work to do. _Animals_ can mate, but only Jack can contemplate sawing Mercury in half and put that plan in to action once their contract with Starfleet is up! Right right, there’s the Bashir _sigh_ and Jack tunes out whatever nonsense he bleats at him, setting the cup down wondering if he just ought to not see for himself. Mouth moving, lips still looking like lips and didn’t Lauren say there was some correlation between genital size and sexual pleasure? Didn’t she say that lip color also correlated to penis color? Does he care? Not particularly. Is he curious as to what on Earth is so magical about bedding Bashir that it kept Sarina away from them for nearly a decade? Actually… yes, yes he is.

 

“Do you have any condoms? Hn of course you do, that was a stupid question why wouldn’t you, shut up Jack, Good, good settles that, right? Hm?”

“What?” slow Bashir, _annoying_ Bashir, _keep up_ Bashir! “Did you ah… need one?”

“Of course I need one. We’re going to engage in intercourse and that’s a responsible intercourse precaution which you _know_ because you’re a doctor so I don’t know why you’d even ask,” he sighs, chewing on his thumb. This is tedious. Bashir is _tedious_ and he’d rather be back at their table discussing their newest acquisition not fooling with this but… but it’s curious and a puzzle and… “And yet there is in this no Gordian know which one might not undo without a sabre if one could merely comprehend the plot…” Jack mumbles to himself.

 

“Poe,” Julian answers automatically wondering if he ought to step back except Jack smells nice and he thinks Jack is quoting some other line of poetry which he answers too, seeing Jack looking pleased, “right right this can work mutant to mutant mmhm. Good good you understand so we’re good?” Jack looks at him waiting, tapping his foot, arms crossed, and Julian is distracted by his mouth wondering why he’s even thinking this is a good idea but it’ll show them, wouldn’t it! _Show who what?_ Show somebody something, he thinks as he agrees, Jack making triply sure he agrees and fine, fine! If Julian is just as directionless and fucked up at fifty- Elim Garak looking over and that’s exactly it! He thinks grabbing Jack and kissing him soundly-

-only to get bitten hard with a rushed explanation that if Julian wasn’t so _dull_ and if he _read the file_ like he claimed he had (the file? The file from thirty years ago?!) then he’d know that Jack has a habit of biting things too near his mouth and well Julian isn’t _stupid_ and so he answers of course he knew that letting Jack bite him again, pin him against the wall kiss bite grind against him with an ongoing commentary on everything from Julian’s… nostrils? to his forehead, to his dick- half of which doesn’t make any sense to him - but either he’s drunk or it’s some augment thing because Jack is really really hot and Julian is really really hard and somewhere between a few embarrassing moans, a few background noises of “The house is closed!” followed by groans, they maneuver back behind some gauzy curtain thing.

 

Bashir definitely has condoms. Bashir also definitely has a nine inch penis (dusty rose, Jack notes)- and Jack realizes as the two of them are rubbing together that apparently so does he when it’s actually hard, huh fancy that soup from a stone…- and a mouth that one might objectively define as “talented”? Jack isn’t quite sure though his body seems to be responding effectively so he decides that’s quantifiable as the condom gets used, Bashir’s mouth gets used, and Jack sets a mental counter so he can compare notes with Sarina on whether this was longer or shorter than their habitual engagements, and check them both against the human standard. Jack hopes that Lauren and Sarina are still chatting up the Cardassian because their ship needs a good doctor and Jack liked his sass. ( _Sass_ , perverts!)

Bashir is trying to determine who’s being penetrated which is a Stupid Question because _clearly_ if Jack is trying to account for even a partial approximation of Sarina’s experience (“wait, you want to have sex with me because you want to compare notes with _Sarina?!_ ”) then Jack would be receiving which he says to Bashir who stammers, and says that well that wasn’t always how it worked so Jack just has to _sigh_ because this is going to be double the work then and Bashir somehow has enough condoms and little packets of personal lubricant and even the little cleaning lubricant packs stuffed in his pockets. What does the Baggins have in its pockets? Seems like the One Ring too but well, Jack is game, things are Working though he’s getting hot and overheated which is Annoying.

Bashir saying his name over and over again while Jack penetrates him is also getting Annoying but he tunes it out while he lifts Bashir’s legs and decides to remind him who got the better augmentations of the two driving into him against the wall and huh, that doesn’t sound so bad after awhile and he even sort of finds the nails digging into his back pleasurable, finds Bashir’s mouth gets better the more it’s there, like Sushi, he decides (eat enough it’s actually nice) and makes sure to Count when they switch positions good and satisfied when Bashir says that he can’t hold Jack like that but if Jack could turn around… Which is… a Plutonian ode, Jack decides, having better things to breathe out than Bashir’s stupid name, deciding that Ginsberg is Perfect for this. “I guess your birthday in Earthling Night, I salute your dreadful presence last majestic as the Gods,” slipping his lips, the feeling of a penis in him odd but not entirely Unpleasant… and so it goes.

 

Goes at least thirty two minutes by the time Julian finishes wondering what in God’s name made him think this was a good idea as he hears Jack muttering into his shoulder that he has no idea why Sarina thought that was worth ten years of Bashir which well, excuse him if he doesn’t meet up to Jack’s exacting standards to which Jack replies that Julian is _stupid_ if he thinks that Jack actually does this All the Time because he isn’t a ho’ and well Julian yells that It’s his bloody birthday party and if he wants to be a ho’ that’s his prerogative and that rapidly goes downhill from there _somehow_ leading to a third round of grinding, Jack conceding as the two of them are sitting on the sticky floor staring at each other that alright, that was _better_ (Better he says! Julian is sure that he somehow counted a good eight or nine orgasms between the both of them, no he _still_  won’t forgive his father for fucking with his genetics) but it’s no cinnamon ice cream more like mint chocolate chip, Jack declares as he puts his clothes back on.

 

Well alright then, Julian can be mint chocolate chip. He  _likes_ mint chocolate chip thank you very much and who ever heard of cinnamon ice cream anyway?

 

What he _can’t_ be is seen going back outside after that speech he gave about maturity and growing up and a man his age etcetera etcetera, peering through the curtain before whirling back to Jack begging him to slip out first.

To which Jack decides that “slipping out discreetly” is best handled by brazenly strolling out and declaring loudly across Quark’s to Sarina that as Satisfactory as that was it still wasn’t worth 10 years, the crowd jumping from there.

“So… it’s not what it looks like,” Jack continues still buttoning his shirt, Julian seeing the vest lying on the floor as he zips his pants back up. He might step on it for good measure.

“You and _Doctor Bashir_ weren’t noisily exchanging bodily fluids the last hour?” Ah, that would be Garak who has _no right_ to complain because they are _not_ together and Julian doesn’t miss that he’s back to being “Doctor Bashir” again either.

“Obviously we had sex. Three times. So _obviously_ I wasn’t talking about intercourse I was explaining that this isn’t a Jack and Julian story in case you were getting the wrong idea… Right right, breaking the fourth wall none of that ignore that, strike that! Hey! Is the doctor coming?!” Jack yells to Lauren and Julian face palms when Alastair yells out that they thought he just did and both he and Paddy exchange high fives and knock back more whiskey.

 

Well touché

 

That goes completely over Jack’s head as he confirms with Lauren that Parmak is game and Julian finally toddles out on wobbly legs thankful that there’s already some sort of scene between Garak and Parmak arguing over whether or not a hundred is too old for a Cardassian doctor to be joining a “motley crew of Federation hoodlums in space!” Well, Julian doesn’t know, doesn’t care, and decides that maybe he’ll turn over a new leaf at sixty as he looks into the room and realizes that he’s slept with more than half the people there and doesn’t actually feel particularly bad about it- quite good about since people are _still_ coming up and congratulating him (Sarina in particular who just split the pot with Jadzia) so take that, Garak!

 

Elim Garak decides that if Kelas Parmak wants to ruin his life then _he_ isn’t going to be around to witness it, rises with a flourish of a long purple cape so extra and so ridiculous that Julian just… smiles at him and Garak smiles back and why were he and Garak on the outs again? So Julian asks him if Garak is still angry and Garak asks Julian if he still thinks the Never Ending Sacrifice is trash to which Julian asks if Garak still thinks that green and red horizontal stripes are flattering to which Garak hisses back that he’s not taking fashion advice from a fifty year old twink who can’t properly button a shirt to which Julian yells that he’s going to be buried with his shirt open all the way for spite.

“At least have a care for the way you taste when they drill you into the ground you well worn hussy!”

“This from the man who I can’t leave alone in a room with Pythas Lok for five minutes?”

“He was choking!”

“On your fucking cock!”

 

The eight Bashir siblings exchange looks and sigh when the two start kissing in the middle of the bar like the world is ending. At some point the cake gets cut and they all sing Happy Birthday to a Cardassian Human tribute to coitus sculpture in bronze making out on a single chair- somehow Julian manages to pull away from Garak long enough to blow out the candles. Juliet hands her mother the camera and says she’s not coming to the next one. Quark decides to charge for souvenir photographs.

“Raise your hand if you didn’t see that coming,” Jonathan grumbles into his Tarkalean tea.

No hands go up.

“I give it a month,” Jolinar says.

Everyone agress.

In the distance, a keen Ferengi ear twitches and announces that the house is once again taking wagers.


End file.
